minsung/skz one shots

body.

No wastin’ time, I wanna make you mine

' ֶָ֢

Minho
He devoured every single of that man’s dance moves. “Wow”, he mouthed in awe, not able to get his eyes off of him. “Dude, don’t even think about it”, the owner of the club, his best friend, said and smacked the back of Minho’s head lightly. “You’re not fucking one of my dancers!”, he sent a warning glare after. Minho watched the dancer leave the stage and tilted his head, a grin appeared on his face. “Why not?”, he said in a low voice, blinking with his eyes rapidly. “Forget about it”, Changbin said and glared at him one more time, waving at the waitress, letting her fill up his cup once again. “And if he’s not your dancer anymore?”, Minho asked and giggled, moving aside to avoid Changbin’s fist. “Don’t you dare!”

He wouldn’t dare, he was loyal to Changbin and he would never do anything to harm his best friend or his business. But he was thinking about it. “Sue me, Changbinnie”, he giggled into his cup before taking a sip. He got up from his seat in the vip lounge and staggered towards the backstage area. He had to talk to that dancer. His vision started to become blurry and it was his sign to pack his things and go home, but not before he found out the dancer’s name. Laughter was coming from the changing room in the backstage area and he walked towards it, careful not to trip over suitcases, make-up boxes and clothes. The door to the changing room opened and a handful of dancers stormed out, wearing pretty suits or dresses, making him feel underdressed. He was wealthy but he never cared about expensive clothes, or cars, or bragging about what he had. And here he was, standing in the doorstep of the changing room wearing a black suit he bought years before his family became wealthy, a white button shirt and a loose tie.

His eyes wandered over the mess in the changing room and got stuck on a silhouette leaning against a desk, carefully removing make-up and glitter in front of a mirror. “Changbin’s friend”, he heard all of a sudden and Minho slightly flinched, he didn’t expect to be seen in the dark. A hum made its way out of his throat and he smirked. Not just a pretty dancer, also a pretty voice. “You were staring at me earlier”, the guy in front of the mirror said and Minho stepped inside, slowly closing the distance. “I did”, he admitted, slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall behind him. “You were good”, Minho added and let his eyes wander over the exposed back in front of him. Tanned, muscular shoulders he’d love to dig his fingers into. Their eyes met in the mirror and Minho’s smirk grew wider. The other one turned around and leaned against the desk, locking eyes with him. “I know”, he answered and grinned, making Minho feel caught off guard. “What’s your name?”, Minho asked as soon as he found his voice again. The other one smiled. “Han Jisung”, he said and tilted his head, waiting for Minho to introduce himself. “Han Jisung”, Minho repeated and smiled. He liked the sound of that name on his tongue. “I’m Minho."

He checked Jisung out from his head to his toes. Jisung was wearing nothing but a black fitted jeans and Minho thought it was a shame when the other put on a glittery blouse. “Are you going out?”, Minho asked, making Jisung grin. “I am”, he answered and Minho closed the distance a little. Their eyes met once again and Minho could have sworn to see something in Jisung’s eyes. Something innocent yet lustful. “Wanna tag along?”, Jisung offered and let his eyes wander over Minho’s suit. He shook his head - he would love to, but he had a meeting in the morning and if this night wasn’t ending soon, he would not be attending it. “Maybe next time”, he said, walking towards Jisung and reaching for something on the desk. He inhaled Jisung’s sweet scent and imagined how he would taste. “What are you doing?”, Jisung asked dumbfounded, making him huff out an amused chuckle. “Give me your arm”, he said and Jisung obeyed. Minho removed the cap from an eyeliner, wrapped his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and wrote his number on Jisung’s arm. “Text me”, he said, closed the eyeliner and threw it back onto the desk. “If you want.” He caressed the skin beneath his thumb for a second before he turned around and walked out of the room.